What the Blue Jays Taught Me This Morning

This morning, as I was sipping my coffee and gazing out the window, I noticed a sudden flurry of blue wings at the feeder. A pair of Blue Jays had swooped in, their crests bobbing and tails flicking with the kind of swagger only Blue Jays can manage.

Within minutes, there were not two, not three, but an entire posse of Jays gathered around, making quite a ruckus and emptying the feeder as if it were an all-you-can-eat buffet. It struck me how quickly word seemed to spread: “Hey gang! Free peanuts and sunflower seeds at my place!”

That’s the first lesson I learned from them: when they find something good, they don’t keep it to themselves – they call in the crew. Often their comings and goings look like a busy airport with constant take-offs and landings – and the occasional backlog of wings waiting for clearance.

As I continued to watch them I remembered reading that they’ll often ‘take one,stash one’ as they feed. Then it clicked: Jays don’t just eat; they tuck food into little crevices, behind bark, in the ground, and even under leaves. They’re nature’s version of homesteaders and preppers, preparing for leaner days long before they arrive. They spend the entire year building up these secret caches, ensuring that when winter gets tough, they’ll still have a bite (or a hundred) tucked away.

And it got me thinking: what if we lived a little more like the Blue Jays?

Sharing the Good Stuff

Blue Jays have a reputation for being loud, bossy birds. And to be fair, they are. But that loudness serves a purpose. It’s how they alert one another: there’s food here, danger there, or an owl over yonder. They look out for each other, not just themselves.

As humans, we sometimes do the opposite. We stumble across a great new recipe, a beautiful walking trail, or a helpful life hack – and instead of sharing, we squirrel it away like a state secret. Maybe it’s because we don’t want to be judged, or maybe we want to keep the magic to ourselves. But imagine what life could look like if we made more of a habit of calling in our people when we find something nourishing – whether that nourishment is literal or figurative.

• Found a healthy recipe that doesn’t taste like cardboard? Share it with a friend.
• Discovered a podcast that leaves you inspired instead of drained? Post it.
• Learned a coping skill that helped you through a tough day? Tell your neighbour.
  

It doesn’t take much effort to shout out a little “food here!” the way the Jays do. And you never know who might benefit from that tiny act of generosity.

Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the flip side of Blue Jay behaviour: they can also be bullies. I’ve watched more than one poor little chickadee dart in for a single seed, only to get swatted off the feeder by a Jay twice its size. It’s not always fair, and it’s not always kind – but isn’t that just life? There will always be a few jerks who throw their weight around, whether at the feeder, in the office, or at the grocery store checkout. The lesson? Don’t let them stop you from showing up anyway. Sometimes the best thing you can do is flap your wings, try again from a different angle, grab your seed, and carry on.

Stashing for Tough Times

The Jays don’t just rely on today’s bounty. They’re planners, albeit noisy ones. Every time they come across extra food, they tuck a little away. They’re not waiting until the snow flies to wonder where their next meal is coming from. They’re preparing all year long. (Fun fact: most non-migratory birds do this.)

We can take a page out of their book. I don’t mean literally burying sunflower seeds in the backyard (though if that brings you joy, you do you). I mean creating our own stashes of goodness, big or small.

Here are a few ways we might “Blue Jay” our own lives:

• Financial stashes: An emergency fund, no matter how small, can bring huge peace of mind. Even a few dollars set aside regularly builds resilience.
• Energy stashes: Rest when you can, not only when you’re exhausted. Sleep, downtime, and small breaks are like snacks for your nervous system.
• Emotional stashes: Keep a “joy box” or folder – letters, notes, photos, reminders of good days – that you can dip into when life feels heavy.
• Practical stashes: Extra soup in the freezer, an extra box of tissues, a jar of homemade jam – tiny comforts that future-you will thank you for.
  

Just like Jays tuck seeds into bark crevices, we can tuck little bits of goodness into our lives, ready to be uncovered when we need them most.

Other Bird Behaviours Worth Noticing

Since I was already knee-deep in bird musings, I started thinking about what else feathered creatures might be teaching us. Turns out, quite a bit.

Chickadees: Tiny Bringers of Cheer

Chickadees may be small, but they never seem to carry themselves as “less than.” They hop onto feeders with cheerful confidence, chirping their names for all to hear. Lesson: don’t underestimate your impact. Even the smallest voice can cheer up the woods.

Crows: Community Geniuses

Crows are the brainiacs of the bird world. They recognize faces, hold grudges (yikes), and teach each other new skills. They’re also fiercely community-minded, gathering for “crow funerals” when one of their own dies, as if to honour and learn from the event. Lesson: intelligence isn’t just about solving puzzles – it’s about caring for each other, too.

Hummingbirds: The Power of Pausing

Hummingbirds spend their days zipping around like tiny caffeinated helicopters. But here’s the catch: they also take long breaks, perching quietly to conserve energy. Lesson: even in a busy life, pause often. Stillness is as vital as speed.

Owls: Silent Observers

Owls remind us of the power of quiet observation. They can sit still for hours, noticing everything, before making their move. Lesson: sometimes the wisest thing you can do is wait, watch, and listen.

Living with a Little More “Bird Sense”

Watching the birds at the feeder isn’t just entertainment – it’s like a free masterclass in living. They don’t overthink their strategies (at least I don’t imagine they do), they just follow instinct: share, stash, show up, and keep adapting.

As humans, our big brains sometimes trip us up. We overanalyze, worry, and catastrophize. But the birds keep it simple. And maybe we could, too.

Here are a few takeaways to try:

• Practice generosity without overthinking. You don’t need a perfect Instagram reel to share a recipe – just text it to a friend.
• Build small reserves. Whether it’s money, energy, or kindness, tiny deposits add up.
• Stay alert, not anxious. Jays are loud because they’re alert, not because they’re terrified. Awareness can be empowering instead of draining.
• Learn from each other. Birds copy behaviours to survive; we can borrow good ideas without shame.
• Take breaks. Even hummingbirds stop to breathe. You can, too.
  

What I’m Taking Forward

Sitting there with my coffee, watching that rowdy flock of Blue Jays, I realized I’d just been handed a pretty great life lesson for free.

I don’t have to hoard my “seeds” of wisdom or joy. I can call out, like the Jays, when I find something worth sharing. And I don’t have to wait for the storm to hit before preparing – I can stash away bits of goodness all year long.

It’s not about living in fear of hard times; it’s about building resilience with tiny, daily acts. The Jays aren’t panicked, they’re just practical.

And maybe, when the winds of life get a little chilly, I’ll discover that I already tucked away something nourishing – an insight, a memory, a jar of soup – that will see me through.

Closing Thought

Nature has always been one of our greatest teachers, if only we take the time to look. This morning it was the Blue Jays, rowdy and unapologetic, teaching me to share the good stuff and stash a little for tomorrow. Tomorrow it might be the chickadees reminding me to be cheerful, or the crows showing me the power of community.

Maybe the next time you see a bird at your feeder – or anywhere, really – you’ll pause long enough to wonder: what’s the lesson here for me?

Because it turns out, the world is full of little feathered mentors, chirping wisdom if only we stop to listen.

---

Sadly none of the images used in this post are not my own – my camera isn’t quite good enough!